King's Cross Station
by Ifuonlyknewgrl
Summary: Two teen junkies and their short look into a life without the magic, the wondrous castle that is Hogwarts, and the friends that care. They only had each other. HPDM. WARNINGS INSIDE.


**King's Cross Station

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**

**ONE SHOT**

AU-Non-Magical

**Summary: **Two teen junkies and their short look into a life without the magic, the wondrous castle that is Hogwarts, and the friends that care. They only had each other. HPDM.

**WARNING**: Uncomfortable situations dealing with minors, dubious consent, drugs, and slash.

-

_Get __straight,__ wait here while I try to find the exit sign_

_When will you stop asking __strangers_

_No one wants what we want_

_Keep one eye on the __door,__ keep one eye on the bag_

_Never expect to be sure_

--Metric

-----

"Say you like it, you little whore."

Harry stilled before repeating the words, listening to the heavy breathing of the man above him. He was bent over one of the few, abandoned dirty sink in the Kings Cross Station. The man, who Harry had been calling "Business Man" in his head, gave a final ram into Harry, spilling into him as he raked a heavy hand through Harry's jet black hair. He had waited for Business Man to finish since they locked eyes outside on the platform. The man was probably in his late thirties, power-freak and probably a lawyer based on his expensive suit and shiny leather shoes. Harry felt the man move from out of him and take a step back, removing the condom on him and fixing his person, while he hungrily stared at Harry through the mirror.

"That was good. How much do I owe you, Green Eyes?" said Business Man. Harry pulled his pants back up from around his ankles, buttoning them up quickly. He wiped his dry mouth with the back of his hand.

"I said 60 pounds."

"I got 50."

"Yeah, whatever," Harry said, holding out his hand as Business Man pulled the folded bills from his pocket. _Must be a lawyer, cheap __arse_ Harry thought as the older man placed the money in Harry's hand.

"Be a good boy, and don't go around with too many men. You never know what some people have now-a-days," Business Man said with a slight sneer. Unlocking the door, he left the bathroom.

Harry waited the necessary minutes needed to make sure that his customer had fully left. After taking a piss and throwing some water on his face, he exited the shitty bathroom, entering a scarce, empty section of the station. No one ever came down this way; he had studied the spot for nearly two weeks now.

He had told Draco to wait for him by the phone-booth by platform seven. As he made it to the section where the mass accumulation of bodies was nearly suffocating, he caught the sight of a nearly white blonde head, sitting up against a garbage can near Platform Seven. The boy was wearing dirty blue jeans and a black t-shirt and brown trainers.

Harry stood before him.

"You're back!" the boy exclaimed, barely keeping his excitement down. "Was it bad? Did he hurt you? How do you feel?"

Harry swallowed the ball that was bouncing up and down his throat, threatening to tell Draco that the experience had been degrading in so many ways. But he couldn't discourage the act. They needed the money.

"It was okay. No, he didn't hurt me. I feel okay. And look at this," Harry pulled out the fifty pounds Business Man had given him for service rendered. Draco smiled widely and threw his arms around Harry's neck, hugging him.

"This'll get us good smack," Draco whispered excitedly. Harry stiffened and pulled from out of the embrace.

"No. Not this time Draco. We can't! We need to save up this money so we can get out of that bloody orphanage and find a place for ourselves. We need to get things on track. We—we just can't. Not anymore." Harry turned his head away, realizing that Draco had gripped the armband that was currently wrapped around his upper arm, hiding his track marks.

"Harry," he pleaded.

"Draco. I said _no," _Harry hissed. "How could you even ask after what I just—" Harry cut himself off. He couldn't let Draco know what happened in that bathroom. What had happened in Harry's head. He had stopped telling him his thoughts a long time ago, after all. He watched as Draco dropped his head in shame and possibly disappointment. "Lets get out of here; maybe we can find some food."

In the sun, Draco came alive. They had been inside the station for nearly two days, waiting for someone to notice them. Fortunately, Business Man had seen Harry today, who was dressed in black jeans and a tight red shirt. Draco had been glanced at by the Business Man, but was probably too pretty for him. He looked too much like a child. Despite Harry looking like a child also, there was some worldly, loose look about him. It was probably his eyes. Draco's eyes were soft, naïve, almost too needy and sheltered to be exposed. The man had taken Harry and used him. And now they would survive for a few days more.

---

Harry hadn't always thought he would be here. He had loved his parents, up until their deaths at age seven. They had been the victims of a horrendous homicide. Walking in the dark streets of London can be dangerous. He had watched as they raped and killed his mother and killed his father. But when they came to him, the man had placed his hands over Harry's eyes, closing them. Harry could still remember the cold of the blade the man pressed against his forehead and dragged across his flesh. He still had a scar. Before the man could press it against his neck, there was loud screaming, screaming from a person outside the alley he was in. The man pushed Harry away, and took off with his cronies, his parents' wallets and belongings in their arms.

Draco had a story himself, but never liked to think about his family.

He had come from one of the wealthiest families in Britain. His father was a top lawyer, his mother was a gorgeous housewife who threw charity balls and wore silk ball gowns. He was the perfect child, the perfect student. He had gone to the best private schools, had the best of friends, had the best drug-dealers on speed-dial and got anything and everything he ever wanted.

However, it all ended when he told his Father he was gay. He had beaten Draco nearly to an inch of his life, calling him a poor excuse for a son. Draco had always been a baseball fan, playing baseball for his school—he was a rising star. His Father had taken Draco's lucky bat and slammed it against his side, breaking one or more of his ribs. The violence that erupted that night still gave Draco nightmares. His Father had promised him that there would never be any word of Draco Malfoy—that Draco Malfoy no longer existed, and he would find out soon enough what his father exactly meant. His Mother had simply cried. To this day Draco doesn't know if she was crying for him.

His Father wouldn't have a gay son, even if it meant killing the boy. A gay son in the aristocrat community was prohibited, after all.

Draco had spent his first night homeless on a bench at King's Cross Station, cold, tired, afraid and in pain. He was bloody all over and he couldn't breathe very well due to his broken ribs. He had nothing but twenty pounds in his pocket, and a sack with a few articles of clothing. He had eventually fallen asleep on the bench, the cold breaking through his skin and causing him to freeze. He remembered waking and being immersed in a field of green grass, warm and lovely. Upon waking up further, he realized that a boy was kneeling in front of him. Immediately Draco reared back, his head smacking against the metal frame of the bench. With a painful hiss he shook his head and slowly sat up, gripping the side of his body.

"You're really hurt," the green-eyed boy whispered. Draco sneered.

"Spot on, arse! Get away from me!" he spat.

"It looks like you need some help, though. Let me help you."

Draco glared at this strange boy. He looked about his age, give or take a year, and he was dirty. His jet black hair was wild, the fringe coming to hang in his eyes shamelessly, he had small round glasses that hid the brightness of his bright green eyes—eyes Draco had never seen on a person before of that shade. The reminded him of summer and everything that made summer beautiful and fun. He was wearing stained jeans and had on a ratty blue shirt with the words: _HOFBG_ in the top left corner. Draco's mind was jolted by the words. His mind flew to a ball him mother once held. _Hogwarts Orphanage for Boy and Girls_.

Draco grabbed his bag and huffed at the orphan. "You? Help _me_? I don't think so. Get away from me you filthy punk, or else—" Draco started, but was cut off as a stab of pain struck him. His broken ribs were crying out in anger at his sudden movements. The green-eyed boy placed a gentle hand on Draco's shoulder, his eyes sincere.

"Please, let me take you to get help. You're going to die out here if you don't get some medical attention."

Draco hesitated. He didn't know this boy, and didn't know what he was capable of. He could go somewhere with this kid and get beaten up some more and robbed. But something about this boy made Draco want to trust him, albeit cautiously. There was an unearthly presence that graced this boy's physique, as if he'd been exposed to everything horrible in the world, and had to learn to _find_ beauty and want in existing. Trusting his gut, Draco gave a curt nod, and allowed for the stranger to help him onto a train, heading north.

That was nearly a year ago. They were only fifteen then. Harry had taken Draco to Hogwarts Orphanage, where a frumpy old nurse Harry had called Ms. Pomfrey had tended to Draco's broken body. He was able to stay in the orphanage until he healed, no questions asked. He had gotten to know his green-eyed savior. Harry had told him that the kids over fifteen at Hogwarts were able to come and go as they pleased, and he usually lived in King's Cross Station. No one knew Draco, or where he had come from. Draco had eventually told Harry who he was, making the green-eyed boy feel for Draco even more. They were together all the time, and the kids at Hogwarts called them the infamous duo—they were never seen causing mischief without one another.

Draco had once called his parents on a payphone. As he held the phone to his head, his breath hitched in his chest as his Father answered the phone. His lips touching the receiver, he wordlessly mouthed the words _fuck you,_ before hanging up. He had later found out that his Father put out a response to the public concerning Draco's disappearance, claiming that Draco had emancipated himself. The news tore him to the core.

But Harry had been there to pick him up, and each day they were trying to survive. Soon the orphanage would be kicking them out upon reaching majority. They had tried in the past to save money, but were easily corrupted by the world of drugs.

It had actually been Draco who exposed Harry to drugs. They lived off of heroin like it was a life-source. It was during one of their trips that Draco and Harry's companionship took a step away from anything innocent and sweet. Their first time together had been passionate, hurried, and angry. There was so much anger. They wondered how so much pleasure could come from something so painful between the two of them; life itself seemed to be so rotten. They treasured that night.

---

Harry sat across from Draco at a nearby McDonalds. He watched as Draco savored a burger. Harry himself had just asked for a cup of water, wanting to save every penny he could. He had told himself that as long as Draco was safe and fed, he would be okay. Draco had offered him some of his food, but Harry had politely declined, wanting his lover to eat and push away some of the hunger inside of him. As he sipped his water he stared outside of the large windows that made up the restaurant. His mind flickered back to the incident he had to endure. He didn't want to sell his body until him and Draco had enough money to get a crummy apartment, yet he couldn't get a job. He had tried numerous times, but no one would hire a sixteen year old homeless boy.

After the death of his parents, Harry had been sent to numerous Foster homes before being sent to Hogwarts. He was often subjected to abuse both physical and sexual from his foster parents, and had run away more times that he could count. To put it simply, he could count the times he had slept in a bed while in foster-care on one hand.

When he had met Draco, his life had changed. He didn't want to be away from this blonde angel. Even though Draco had led them into some pretty rough patches due to his poor choices, Harry had still loved him more than ever. When their friendship had changed to romance, Harry had accepted it with open arms, wanting to be closer to the boy. They had something so unique together Harry didn't even want to label it.

"What're we going to do for tonight, Harry?" Draco asked, chewing on a French fry. Harry smiled.

"I guess if we can make it to the orphanage before closing, we could sleep there tonight, but Ms. McGonagall told me a few days ago that if we get there pass five one more time, she won't be sweet and let us in anymore. She said it's not fair to the other kids she has to turn away from the door."

"Ah, who cares about that old hag? She acts like she's God around that place."

"Well, she is God, at least she is when it comes to who's sleeping where that night," Harry said with a frown. He glanced up at the clock that was on the wall in the joint. It was closing in to three pm. He was tired, and was sore. All he wanted was to sleep well and snuggle with Draco.

After a few more minutes of quietly eating, Draco finally announced that he was finished. Harry nodded and stood, waiting as Draco gathered his garbage and tossed it in the trash. They walked out together, heading towards the station so they could head back to the Orphanage.

-

"Mr. Black, I regret to inform you that Mr. Harry Potter is not here," Ms. McGonagall said, her tone clipped and short. She had kept up about his stay in prison through the newspapers. He had murdered his best friend in cold blood, had spent nearly a decade in prison, and was now looking for his Godson, said to be residing at the Orphanage. Despite spending ten years in jail, the man looked impeccable. His jet black hair was clean and slicked back from his forehead. He wore an expensive suit as well as expensive shoes, and had a Rolex on his wrist. It was said the Black family were incredibly wealthy, but McGonagall never busied herself with gossip.

"Well, when you see him, please give him this," Black said, slipping McGonagall and envelop, no doubt with money in it. "You tell him I'm looking for him?" he asked smoothly. She nodded, opening a small safe and storing the envelop inside. She glanced up at him coolly, her face remaining quite impassive. "It was nice seeing you again, Minerva," he then smirked, turned, and exited the office.

-

"Please stand in a _single line!_ No one will get inside until there is a line!" shouted Mr. Snape, a worker at the Orphanage. He tapped his foot impatiently and glared at youths before him. He had asked himself why he had come to work for Hogwarts so many years ago. Before, he would've said that it was for the children—that he had wanted to help the children, but now he didn't know. Now, he would have to say, he was here for the convenience.

His eyes suddenly landed on Potter and his boyfriend Draco. He was quite fond of Draco, the boy being witty with some manners that were obviously taught to him as a child. Such qualities were rare at Hogwarts. However, Potter was bad news and a trouble-maker. He didn't like the boy because of his attitude and revolutionary outlook on the world.

"Potter," Snape said coldly, marking the boys name down on the clipboard as he entered the Orphanage. "Draco."

"Hello Mr. Snape, how are you this late afternoon?" Draco asked sweetly. Snape smiled.

"Very well, thank you. And yourself?"

"I'm well, thanks," Draco said, following Potter, their hands clasped together tightly. Snape rolled his eyes at this. Although Draco refused to give his last name, Snape had an irking feeling that the boy was the Malfoy boy the Socialite newspapers had reported on. He kept this suspicion to himself though, not wanting to distress the young boy.

"Oh, Potter—McGonagall would like to see you immediately."

Harry turned around to look at Snape's bored face. "Really?"

"I wasn't lying, if that's what you're implying Potter, now get moving, you're holding up the line!" Snape barked. Harry shot Snape a dirty look before walking away and tugging Draco along with him.

-

"I was approached today by a man with name of Sirius Black, Harry. I'm sure he's looking for you, and might want you to go with him as your guardian."

"But I thought he was in jail," Harry replied quietly. He had left Draco in the recreation room in front of the telly, telling him he would be back soon after the meeting.

"I assume that he has been released. I thought his sentence was for life," she said.

"It is," Harry replied.

"Well…" McGonagall said, uncomfortable and a little frightened. "I recommend that you look after yourself Harry. And, he left something for you…" she said, pulling out a small key and opening something behind her desk. Harry shifted in his seat, wondering what this man could have left him. McGonagall pulled out a thick white envelop, sliding it across the desk to him. He picked it up with trembling hands and opened it. Inside was probably five thousand dollars wrapped around a white sheet of paper. He paled, his heart pounding against his chest wildly.

"I—I—don't know what to say," Harry gasped. McGonagall smiled sadly.

"I believe that this is your way out Harry. Take the money and start over. You've been at this orphanage for nearly seven years Harry, off and on. You brought us young Draco, and you've saved numerous of kids from the streets. I think it's time for you to think of yourself, and of course Draco."

Harry bowed his head, his mind working over what he had just been given, and what he could possibly be taking. He couldn't leave with Sirius; the chances that he wouldn't be able to bring Draco with him were high. Instead, he pocketed the money, smiling down at McGonagall as he stood from his seat. "Thank you for your help," and with that, Harry exited the office.

He pulled himself into a secluded hallway and pulled out the white paper that was wrapped around the money.

_Harry—_

_Ever since the tragic death of your parents, I vowed that after I was released from prison, I would find you and take care of you. I heard on the streets that you were at Hogwarts Orphanage. Can you imagine what I felt? You are from a respectable family that was high up in society, and here you are, living on the streets and in a shelter? Imagine my outrage. I was told that you wouldn't come into your inheritance until you reach majority. I know that life has been hard for you, but don't worry. I WILL find you Harry. And when I do, we can be a family together._

_Love,_

_Sirius_

Harry folded the note back up, a small part of him craving that family notion. But what if Sirius didn't want to take in _two_ boys? He wouldn't let that get in the way. As the note said, Harry was going to get the inheritance the government withheld from him when he reached majority. If he and Draco could just wait, they would make it through. He didn't need this man to come and take him. He was find all by himself.

Tomorrow, he would tell Draco about the money, and they would start a new life. One that wasn't filled with drugs and sex with strangers—things were going to get better.

-

Later that night, as the Orphanage was settling down for sleep, Harry had pulled Draco onto the twin size bed that occupied the room with him, wanting to sleep beside him. It was nearly ten in the evening when the door to one of the many Sleeping Rooms cracked open, causing a narrow stream of light to cut across the vast room.

"I'm looking for Harry Potter—" a man called out in the darkness. Draco stirred from his sleep and saw a tall, groomed man standing in the door frame of the room. Over twenty beds were in the room, and currently only him, Harry, and a couple of girls were occupying this section. The man repeated himself, and Draco shook Harry awake.

"Someone is calling for you," Draco whispered, his grey eyes shining with fear. Harry slipped on his glasses as he looked up at Draco.

"What?"

"Harry Potter!" the man called out again. Harry froze as he turned his head to look at the door from which the voice was calling from. He wrapped his arms around Draco.

"I won't let him take me," Harry whispered.

"Who is he?" Draco asked.

"That's my Godfather. He was like a brother to my mum and dad, but was sent to jail for murdering someone. I guess he's out now."

"WHAT?" Draco gasped. "A _murderer_ is looking for you?" Harry nodded. "Holy shit Harry, what are you going to do?"

"We're just going to sit here quietly and ignore him. I thought maybe he'd come to find me before, but I'd given up, see? Now if he finds me, he'll want to take me away from you."

An emotion akin to love struck Draco. He looked up at Harry, whose arms were still wrapped around him, and smiled. This boy had given up everything for Draco, and he was giving up his own happiness for him. Draco had never felt what he was feeling in his chest, ever. Leaning in he kissed Harry softly. "I love you Harry," he whispered.

They fell asleep like that, wrapped in one another's arms. When McGonagall came to their bed, Sirius Black beside her— that was how she found them.

"…I assume that the courts have issued an apology?" McGonagall asked.

"That's all I want, I don't want to sue or anything. An apology for a mistake they made that cost me ten years of my life, and to not have it publicized, of course. I just want to live quietly now…" he said, trailing off.

"Who is this boy?" Sirius asked, generally surprised.

"I believe, Mr. Black, that this is Draco Malfoy, who was said to have emancipated himself from his family. He came to our orphanage after being found by Harry at King's Cross Station, badly beaten up. As you know from experience," she said, giving him a long look, "children often fall victim to abusive parents, and are then kicked out of their houses for reasons beyond their control. A child who is different from others, aren't accepted in some families, as you may know." Sirius nodded. "Harry here is smitten by Draco. I think they may very well be in love."

"I know how that is," Sirius said softly, recalling his childhood. He shook his head from the memories. He was kicked out of his own house when he was young.

"I've been working here at Hogwarts for nearly forty years now," she said wearily. "When Albus started this orphanage, rest his soul, I thought it would be so hard—that it would be so much work. But every day I'm thankful that I stayed on as long as I did," she said tenderly, staring down at Harry and Draco.

Sirius placed a gentle hand on Minerva's shoulder, giving it a small squeeze of thanks.

"I promise things will be different from here on. Things will be better for him…and Draco. I'll take care of them." Minerva smiled.

And little did they know, so did Harry.

* * *

_There's a place that ends here I know  
When they close the gates I'll cry  
I'm so tired of never sleeping  
The whole world wants what we're on

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_

_Thank you for reading this one-shot, I hope you enjoyed it! The song lyrics in this story are by Metric and are called "The Police and the Private." I was actually inspired by the song to write this story, so please check it out!_


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